Tale of two crimes

Of the two major crime stories gathering headlines these days, one involves a very clever criminal, and the other an exceedingly stupid one. I’m referring to James “Whitey” Bulger and Aaron Hernandez.

A notorious gangster, Mr. Bulger is on trial for a long list of offenses, including his alleged involvement in numerous murders. Mr. Hernandez, a football star formerly with the New England Patriots, is under arrest for killing a friend. The Bulger trial is long overdue and would have occurred sooner had he not avoided capture for 16 years, living the life of an elderly pensioner in California.

The Hernandez case is a puzzle. This is a 23-year-old athlete who had everything going for him. He lived in a mansion, enjoyed the life of sports celebrity and was sitting on a $40 million contract extension. Then he allegedly threw away everything over some silly barroom conflict.

Reaction to his downfall was equally bizarre. It took police several days and extended surveillance to finally take him away in handcuffs. Some people bemoaned loss of the “Patriot Way” — a mythical moral turnpike paved with good intentions by the late Myra Kraft — and the terrible embarrassment poor Patriots fans have to endure over the Hernandez case.

News flash, everybody! That magic Patriot Way never existed. Former coach Bill Parcells characterized football players aptly when he said, “Those guys are not choir boys.” Football fans overcome any embarrassment as long as the team wins.

Meanwhile, a rejuvenated Bob Kraft is busy pursuing his latest girlfriend, less than half his age. Life goes on.

The Bulger trial is a horror story of brutality, betrayal and corrupt officials. It exposes a master criminal who practiced his trade into a ripe old age and made sure crime paid well. He made millions of dollars through his criminal enterprises and had more than $800,000 in cash on hand when apprehended.

At 83, knowing that he is likely to die in jail, he’s carefully orchestrating his defense to create a legacy that would fit his twisted code of ethics. He’s willing to admit to the most horrible crimes, including murder, while vehemently denying that he had been a snitch for law enforcement.

There is, however, ample evidence that he was an FBI informant and fled in 1995 when a corrupt agent tipped him off that he was about to be indicted.

Inevitably, the publicity surrounding the trial has reflected on the “other Bulger,” younger brother William, a public official who served for nearly three decades in the Massachusetts Legislature, including close to 20 years as president of the state Senate, before becoming president of the University of Massachusetts.

His loyalty to Whitey eventually cost him that job. Billy Bulger never denounced his brother’s criminal activities. During a 2001 testimony before a federal grand jury, he declared: “It’s my hope that I’m never helpful to anyone against him. I don’t feel any obligation to help everyone to catch him.” He said he wouldn’t advise his fugitive brother to surrender, even though he had been in touch with him by telephone, “because I don’t think it would be in his interest to do so.”

I’ve been always fascinated by the complex relationship of the brothers. Even though there’s no hint that Billy has ever been involved with any of Whitey’s activities — and one sibling certainly cannot be held responsible for the misdeeds of another — his presence loomed large in the background.

I agree with Jeff Jacoby of The Boston Globe that Billy Bulger’s presence among the political dignitaries at the memorial service for Paul Cellucci sullied the event. “If Bulger can still walk into the Statehouse and be greeted like a respected elder statesman, something remains profoundly rotten on Beacon Hill,” Mr. Jacoby wrote. “His betrayal of the people who elected and empowered him, his callous disregard for those his brother terrorized, should make him radioactive in respectable political circles. He should have been ashamed to show his face at the service for Paul Cellucci.”

But then most politicians are immune to shame; that’s how they survive the blood sport of Massachusetts politics. I’ll never forget watching the opening session of the Massachusetts House of Representatives a few years back when deposed Speaker Tom Finneran, already disgraced and indicted, was given a standing ovation by his former colleagues.

Apparently Billy Bulger has thin skin, and some of my past comments led to personal confrontation. At an event we both attended in Worcester, he buttonholed me to give me an earful. Another time, during a large gathering in Boston, he singled me out from the speaker’s rostrum.

(It’s worth mentioning that public figures have different ways of dealing with criticism. Some ignore it and act as if nothing happened the next time they see you. Others protest, threaten or carry a grudge. Some try to deflect criticism by showing a sense of humor or getting emotional.)

The Whitey Bulger trial, and expected verdict, will close a chapter of criminal behavior unprecedented in our time. As for the Hernandez case, the Patriots Pro Shop at Gillette Stadium offered fans who bought a Hernandez jersey — No. 81 — the chance to exchange it for another player’s.

That might not be such a good deal, however, because the shirt could fetch $300 or more on eBay, an online auction site.